Harri Potter and the Lost Shepard
by Sun-Tsu Toriden
Summary: After firing the Crucible, Shepard is flung into a different universe, where she collides with Sirius Black just as he's thrown into the Veil, saving them both. How will a biotic Shepard affect this universe? Meanwhile, will Harri Potter finally get up the nerve to ask Ginny out on a date on top of trying to save the wizarding world? Rated M for swearing, violence and sex
1. Chapter 1

According to M-theory, there are four dimensions we can perceive, and seven others that interact with matter in ways we can't detect. This leads into string theory, where at the most basic level, below atoms, below subatomic protons, below even quarks, there are one-dimensional energy loops called strings. The way they vibrate determines what the string will form.

This isn't to be confused with the multiverse theory, which states that there are an ever-increasing number of parallel universes, each created by differences as small as the subtle vibration of a single string. The differences between universes can be vast, or they could be nearly identical. Some are at different points along the time dimensional axis, and some may exist where universal constants such as the speed of light are different. In some universes, magic exists; in some, science rules. In still others, they exist together, or not at all.

Those who study multiverse theory usually at one point try to be the first to prove that travel between these alternate universes is possible. Those that come at it from a purely scientific perspective, no matter how gifted, will always find one variable eludes them. Those that attempt it from a magical approach also fail, because their understanding of the underlying concepts misses one small, but crucial part.

Magic and science separately cannot form the pieces of the puzzle to inter-universal travel. But sometimes, the most unlikely of scenarios can bring them together to create an accident that will transcend the known laws, constants and theories of the universe. Then and only then, a miracle might happen.

Some take it as evidence of the divine. Others take it as evidence of the opposite. Whether it is or isn't is largely irrelevant to the subject of the miracle. Mostly their thought processes are something of a variation on "What is happening to me?" – only usually, much less polite.

* * *

The battle in the Department of Mysteries wasn't going well. Six teenagers, no matter how well trained, are fighting the small odds when they come up against adult, slightly (or in some cases not-so-slightly) psychotic terrorists. They had taken the initiative against their dark-robed opponents and caught them off guard, but they couldn't compete against the power and experience aligned against them. It was only the timely intervention of the veterans of their side of the previous war that had staved off total defeat. That said, with a battlefield as dangerous as the Ministry, the casualties were far from standard.

Two members of the 'light' side, one a grown man and the other the teenaged offspring of his murdered friends, battled against the unstable Bellatrix Lestrange in the chamber where the ancient – and dangerous - Veil of Death was studied. Sirius Black didn't like the fact that Fate had once again pitted him against Bellatrix, but he wasn't going to give her the pleasure of an easy fight. Judging by the competency of Potter scion battling next to him, Bella was going to have some serious problems soon.

He fired off a blasting curse, aiming not for Bella herself but at the wall behind and above her. In her rage and insanity, she didn't hear the cracking of ancient stone, so was caught unprepared when it came tumbling down upon her. Forgetting himself for a moment he allowed himself to entertain thoughts of victory, until he felt the tell-tale displacement of air that signaled apparition. He barely had time to turn and see the insane smile on her bloodied face before she struck.

"Impedimentia," Bellatrix screeched as she jabbed her wand at the last of the true-named Blacks. The force of her spellcasting threw him backwards, right into the arch of the Veil. Time seemed to slow for Sirius as he fell. He looked over to James' child, feeling guilty as he realized he would never be able to keep his vow that he would always be there for his friend and his family. He heard a shout of denial and rage before his attacker attempted to disapparate. The teenage body tackling her just before she did would not be pleasant for either of them.

Sirius' last thought before he passed through the Veil was a passing thought about what would happen to his body, before the powerful magics overwhelmed his mind and he fell unconscious.

* * *

Commander Mimir Shepard spat out the blood filling her mouth as she tried to clear her vision. Her arm, which felt far too heavy to even lift, let alone hold up her pistol, shook violently as she aimed. She fired, doing minor damage to the massive control conduit she needed to overload. She pulled the trigger again, a memory of the recently-departed Anderson coming to mind. Her grip on her pistol tightened and her resolve firmed as she stood a little straighter. A small part of her realized it was only the adrenaline, but with each memory of her crew, her posture straightened and her expression set in determination. Each shot did more damage to the conduit, Shepard herself ignoring the minor shrapnel wounds as she advanced, never letting up her firing. A last thought that she might never see Liara again flitted through her mind.

She wasn't worried though. She knew the final meld in London had been different, she had felt it. She knew Liara had taken a piece of her, even if she was just as likely to die as Mimir in this final battle. So she had felt no guilt as she had sent Liara away, knowing that even if she never would get to see her beautiful blue daughter, the child would at least have a chance to exist now.

Mimir snarled at that thought and gathered her remaining strength for a biotic strike. "For Liara!" she cried as she unleashed the powerful, unstable mass effect attack at the damaged conduit. The biotic attack pushed the conduit to critical, beginning the Crucible firing process that would finally end the Reapers.

As the massive energies of the Crucible coursed through the Citdael and its hidden relay inside, the energy activated almost-forgotten potential hidden within the human. Not too many generations ago her ancestors had called Earth home, and lived lives most people would liken to fairy tales. Magic was real, though had become less common upon the discovery of Element Zero. It was this potential that the titanic energies were activating.

As forgotten magic and advanced science waged war within her, something impossible happened. A trigger neither magic nor science could find on its own activated within her, and an inter-universal portal was created. Mimir Shepard was flung away from her home universe along paths of time and space until, like lightning, the portal struck a compatible universe and sent her to it.

The only thought going through her mind resembled _What the fuck is going on?_. Further rumination on her current state of being was delayed as she spied something coming towards her at an appreciable speed. She barely had time to register it as an unconscious human male before she tackled it.

The two of them tumbled out of a stone archway and into a chamber that looked like it had been grown, rather than hewn from bedrock. Mimir's body was rapidly succumbing to blood loss and trauma, not to mention the stress of inter-universal travel, so she barely took it in. All she could really register was the man's still breathing body beneath her. She joined him in blissful, painful unconsciousness.

* * *

The thing about prophecy is that, unlike what most people believe, they aren't a statement of what the future will be. Instead, they provide an obscure look at what the future _might_ be. But even though magic can often violate several laws of science, it can't escape quantum instability in predicting future events. The Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries stands testament to this, hundreds of prophecies spoken yet never fulfilled for whatever reason.

People also didn't realize that when circumstances change to make a previous prophecy no longer possible, sometimes a new prophecy comes about.

The tricky thing about prophecy though, is that there has to be a witness, because true Seers cannot ever recall making them. Otherwise, their minds would fracture at the myriad of possibilities the future held.

So it was that Sybil Trelawney, drunk once again in her chambers after her ignominious sacking by Delores Umbridge, felt an powerful, yet unknown force overtake her. She lurched to her feet and down the hall until she came upon another living creature. No ghost or portrait would satisfy the prophecy trying to escape Trelawney's mind. She stumbled and fell and found herself in earshot of a living thing, and thus a new prophecy clawed its way from her throat.

"From future far and distant, she will come. Her magic weak, but command of elemental nothingness unsurpassed. She will be the power the Dark Lord knows not, and shall the marked equal help destroy him. But to her home she must be sent anon, or shall this world rue and thus destroy in turn."

Mrs Norris looked curiously at the human who had spoken to her, tilting her head in confusion. As Trelawney succumbed to the alcohol-induced coma she had been building towards for weeks, if not months and years, the part-kneazle sauntered off to try and find more students out after curfew. After all, that was the important thing, not whatever gibberish the smelly woman had spoken.

* * *

**A/N: Hi everyone. **

**So, I'm not entirely certain where the inspiration for this came from, but here it is. I've seen a few Harry Potter/Mass Effect crossovers where Harry or others go to the future, but I wanted to try something different and sent Shepard into the past. **

**You may not have noticed, but I refrained from actually mentioning name or gender of the Potter in this story. It's going to be a surprise, I hope. **

**For those of you who want details on Shepard's background, I will give you this: Colonist (Though her family is a little bit unorthodox), Adept (which will have interesting effects on magic when they interact with biotics), Hero (because She also has a 'Saving people thing') as well as coming a little too close to a thresher maw at one point or another, and loved Liara faithfully through all the games. How this will effect her since she's the only one who came through and probably can't contact her asari lover, let alone return, you're just going to have to wait and see. **

**Also, ten points and a cameo appearance to the first person who can tell me the significance of Mimir as a name. **

**Please take pity on a poor little experiment and leave reviews. That way I'll know if you like it, or if I should focus my energies elsewhere.**


	2. Chapter 2

Mimir was awake, though at this point she really wished she wasn't. The amount of pain her body was now consciously aware of she could do without. She didn't know where she was, why she was, or even how she was aware at this point, but her N7 training kicked in.

_First rule when you wake up in unknown surroundings: gain as much intelligence as you can without alerting possible captors_.

She subtly inventoried her own body to begin with. Feeling, and a little more pain, accompanied her attempts at finding whether she still had her full complement of fingers and toes. She discovered, as well as still being in possession of all twenty digits, that whoever had her had decided not to restrain her, at least not yet. She didn't feel like she was in her armour anymore, so that means she had been found and searched at some point. A little movement of her fingers, as well as the familiar tingle at the back of her neck, helped discover that her biotic amp was still in place, and that she could still access her biotics if needed.

Not hearing anyone in her immediate vicinity, she risked a quick peek at her surroundings. She opened her eyes and moved them side to side, before quickly closing them again to take stock of what she had seen. The first thing had of course been the ceiling, but it wasn't the one she had expected. She'd seen her fair share of rough and partially destroyed stonework in the ruins of London before the assault on the beam. She couldn't recall anything that would account for the ancient, vaulted, and most of all intact stonework her quick glimpse had afforded her. Nor did it account for the almost pre-industrial setting of the infirmary. She hadn't seen one sign of technology that anyone would have used before electricity. Not even a damn IV. The only other thing of note she had seen was that in the beds around her was an assortment of other unconscious humans. Odd that there were no aliens, given the sheer number of them on the ground before Hammer's almost-aborted assault. The bed right next to her contained a man she sort of recognised as she had tackled him, but none of the others looked familiar. In fact, several of them looked barely older than teenagers.

She was about to risk another look when the sounds of footsteps on stone reached her ears, along with the sound of voices. She pretended to be asleep again, in order to gain more information on her current location and benefactors, or possible incarcerators. She wouldn't put it past several elements within the Alliance to try and put her through the wringer again for 'abandoning Earth'. She settled into a comfortable position, her biotics warmed just in case she needed to make a fast getaway, potentially through the large windows she had spied.

* * *

The heavy doors to the infirmary opened, Albus in a whispered conversation with his friend and healer Poppy.  
"I don't care Albus," she said in an angry whisper. "I want to see her."  
"She's had a lot dropped onto her tonight Poppy. I think a night in her own bed isn't too much to ask. She spends far more time here than any other student, far more than either of us would like." A scoff was all the reply the healer deigned to give to that statement.  
"Fine, but if she isn't here after breakfast I shall personally hunt her down and force her into my care."  
"I will agree to those terms," Albus said in a grandfatherly tone. "And your other charges?"

"Some nasty injuries, but nothing that won't heal in time. I'll say this for Potter, if it wasn't for the training they went through, those students be dead. Six of them against Death Eaters! I wouldn't believe it if I didn't have the casualties to prove it."  
"Is there anything you will need specialist items for?" Albus asked, concerned.  
"Nothing that I can't have Severus or St Mungo's get for me," Poppy replied. "The older Weasley's going to have some scarring on his arms from those memories. As for the Granger girl, she was just lucky she silenced him, else she'd have been cut clean in half. The younger Weasley and Lovegood have mostly superficial injuries, and Longbottom's nose will be finished healing by morning."

"What of Sirius?" Albus asked, turning to the man in the bed next to their unexpected guest.  
"He's sleeping now, though I'm not sure what hit him. Any idea what happened to him to cause this?"  
"According to Harri, Bellatrix hit him with a spell that sent him through the Veil."  
"Well then it looks like Potter can add a vice-president to the club of 'I survived something that by rights should have killed me.' His vitals are good for someone who should be dead. He's alive, which is something a lot of people who went through that thing can't say. He's asleep for now, and I want to keep him overnight with the rest of them."  
"And what of the woman we found with him?" the Headmaster enquired. He turned to the woman in question, currently lying in the bed next to Sirius.

She was tall, at least a good six feet tall by the old measurements. Her frame was lithe and athletic, but there was no mistaking that there were muscles under her blanket. Her hips and chest were not particularly curvy, but it was almost expected given her physique. He wasn't sure of her eye colour, given they were closed, but the hair, what there was of it, was a fine, silken blonde to shoulder length, not quite the platinum of the Lovegoods or Malfoys, more a dirty blonde. Her face, even covered in cuts and bruises, was one that most men would consider attractive. He almost thought he saw something familiar in her face, but he couldn't place it at the moment. His mind was wondering on so many other topics at the moment as well.

"Her, I've got no idea," Poppy admitted. "I had to remove most of the clothing, if you want to call what she was wearing that. Personally, I'd have called it armour. And there's only one kind of person who wears armour Albus, and that's a soldier."  
"Indeed. Do you still have it?" he asked curiously. Examining would possibly help identify the mystery woman.  
"What little I peeled off her, yes. The only intact thing was the left gauntlet. And before you ask, I did check for the Dark Mark under it, or on any of her things, and there wasn't one to be found. Otherwise, her list of injuries that I can tell is ridiculous, even worse than anything Potter's managed to do. Contusions, lacerations, shrapnel wounds, broken bones, burns, blood loss. You name it; I can probably say she's got it at the moment. Only thing I can say for sure if that none if it is magical damage."

"Was that doubt I heard in your voice there?" Albus enquired. He'd always put great faith in Poppy Pomphrey's healing arts, and she never questioned her own abilities.  
"I don't know who we're dealing with Albus, but I don't like it. Half the diagnostic spells I tried to use on her simply didn't work! There'd be this faint purple glow around her body, and nothing would happen. Similarly, the potions I've administered seem to have no effect on her. She's not a witch, but she's not a muggle either. Whatever she is, it's nothing I've ever seen before."

The two of them looked down at the woman in the bed, one curious, the other annoyed, before she came upright with a coughing fit. The two of them just looked at her before she calmed back down, before she looked up at them, her dark green eyes locking onto theirs.  
"Uh, guess we can't all pretend that didn't happen?" she croaked out.  
"You would be unfortunately correct," Albus said, not threateningly, but certainly not warmly.

* * *

Shepard lay in her bed as she listened to the conversation. One of them seemed to be an old man, the other a middle-aged woman. The woman and her British accent almost reminded her of Chakwas, caring for her patients but brooking no arguments over their treatment, regardless of their rank or galaxy-saving credentials. The older one put her in mind of Admiral Hackett, a man who had seen and done a lot, and was used to having his orders followed. They talked about the other residents, including the man she had tackled, Serious they called him, or something like that. She recognised some of the other names the woman said, some from her family and some from her grandmother's tales, and wondered if it was a coincidence. Though she felt sorry for whoever was unfortunate enough to be saddled with Longbottom as a name. They also talked about Potter, but that was a common enough name. She could feel them looking at her as they talked about her. She didn't like the fact they were talking about the Dark Mark, something she had only ever heard about in her grandmother's stories.

What the _fuck_ had happened to her?

She hoped that they would go away, before she felt the catch in her chest. She tried to ignore it, but her body's autonomic responses were more powerful than her will right now, and she ended up painfully upright in a coughing fit. She was surprised that at the end, no-one else had awoken. She was left looking up at the woman in white, further enforcing the doctor image, and a man whose beard was long enough to tuck into his belt. Oh, he actually did. Where had she heard of that before?  
"Uh, guess we can't all pretend that didn't happen?" Shepard croaked out.  
"You would be unfortunately correct," the old man replied, not threateningly, but certainly not warmly.

_Second rule when you wake up in unknown surroundings: only give them your name, rank and serial number._

"Who are you?" the old man asked.  
_How convenient a question_, Shepard thought as she collapsed onto the bed, her back protesting for a moment.  
"Commander Mimir Shepard, N7-21540411," she recited from memory. It would be the only answer she would give until she had a better understanding of where she was and who she was talking to.  
"I don't recognise the name. Do you Poppy?" the man asked the healer.  
"I've heard of a few Shepards, but none matching her description," came the reply.  
"Oh, do excuse my manners," the old man said. "I am Albus Dumbledore, and the woman who has been responsible for your care is Poppy Pomphrey."

Whatever Shepard was going to say next died in her throat at Dumbledore's name.  
_What the fuck? How is this even possible?_ Shepard thought to herself. According to history and her grandmother's stories, the man had died in 1997, nearly two hundred years ago. Unless this was a very odd coincidence of a descendant named after an ancestor, something seriously weird was going on. She really needed to know more, but was concerned about her current condition. Seeing few alternatives and hoping she was wrong, she licked her lips before asking her next question.  
"You wouldn't happen to be, oh, the grandson or similar to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, former Headmaster of Hogwarts?" she asked hopefully.

Her hopes that something weirder than her merely surviving what had happened on the Crucible were dashed at his raised, curious eyebrow.  
"I would hope that that little slip was the result of your injuries," he said firmly. "Though I suppose Umbridge did force me out this year. And then there was that unfortunate misunderstanding three years ago. Never mind then," he said in a far more mild tone. "As to your other question, I thank you for your flattery, but I am in fact the first to wear all of those names. Might I ask how you knew them?"  
"Professor," Shepard said in a very weary tone, "You'd have a hard time believing me if I told you."  
"You appear to have come out of nowhere and magic doesn't seem to affect you in any real way. I very much doubt there is anything you can say that would give me pause," Dumbledore replied.

Shepard sighed, the heavy, weary sigh that Albus recognised coming from Harri far too often for his liking. The sigh of someone used to dealing with bizarre circumstances that would have anyone else throwing a fit of some kind.  
"Can you tell me where I am, and even though it might sound strange, when I am?" If Dumbledore showed no sign that he was curious at her question, other than the twitch of an eyebrow.  
"You are currently in the infirmary of Hogwarts, which you seem to be passingly familiar with," he said, Shepard nodding. "As to when, I believe it is," he checked his watch, a particularly complicated piece that only passingly resembled a non-magical one, "indeed the 19th of June."  
"What year?" Shepard asked, almost dreading the answer. This was all sounding horrifyingly familiar to the tales her grandmother told her of her life and family on Earth, before she had moved to Mindoir.

"1996," Albus replied. He was slightly disturbed when instead of relaxing, Shepard seemed to tense up. He looked over to the healer, who was just as perplexed as he given her expression, before returning to the injured woman's gaze.  
"Then you might want to hold onto something;" Shepard said sincerely. "The last place I can remember firmly being was London. The year was 2186."  
"You seriously think I'm going to believe you're from two hundred years in the future?" Poppy scoffed. "I've heard a lot of strange things, but this takes the cake Albus. She's obviously hit her head one too many times to come up with this particular delusion."  
"While I respect your medical opinion Poppy, I'm not willing to rule it out. There have been recorded instances where time-turner accidents have sent people further into the past than they had planned. Though none of them have ever come as far as you have claimed," he said to Shepard.

"Look, I have no idea how it happened either. One minute, I'm causing a massive explosion, the next; I'm tackling that serious fellow over there and coming out in this badly-lit, lithic chamber." She deliberately decided not to try and explain the Citadel and the Crucible. If she really had been sent to the past and this wasn't an elaborate hoax, or potentially an illusion while she was in a coma, they would either not believe the concept of space travel, or would already know it as part of her subconscious.  
"Perhaps a truth serum or the like will ease your mind about your patient's origins Poppy," Albus suggested.  
"Not likely," Shepard replied.  
"Oh, and why not?" Poppy asked in irritation.

"Because magic and biotics don't mix, trust me on that." Shepard said. "I come from a family of wizards, and as far as it could be figured out, mass effect and magic can't work together. The element zero cancels out the effects to a greater or lesser degree." Poppy looked about to object again and Shepard sighed and activated her barrier, a purple fire enveloping her body.  
"What magic is this?" she asked, casting a few diagnostic charms only to have them stopped by the purple barrier enveloping Shepard.  
"Where I come from, we call it biotics. A rare element can sometimes integrate into the human body, giving them control over something called 'mass effect', essentially control over gravity for the most part. It also cancels most magic, even potions." She gave a simple explanation for them, since element zero was not native to Earth and they weren't ready for that kind of knowledge.

A knock on the infirmary door got the attention of Albus and Poppy before they could ask more questions, and they went over to investigate. As they did, Shepard began to wonder if she had really gone back in time, if it would screw up causality if she looked up her family. She knew her grandmother went to school around this time, and she cast her eye over to the beds currently occupied. She couldn't see very well right now, but she suspected that one of the girls in the bed over there was actually the past version of her favourite relative. If she really was here though, there was another person she was probably going to meet.

Her grandmother never exaggerated his deeds, saying he never would have approved of it from anyone, least of all his friends.  
'_Harry Potter was a great wizard,_' she used to say with a wistful expression, '_but his greatness was only exceeded but his humility. Never forget that Mimir, and you'd make him as proud of you as I am_.' Shepard didn't get onto the next thing her grandmother had to say about Harry Potter before she was distracted as well by the opening of the infirmary door. Instead of her two previous interrogators, there were three now, the third hidden behind Dumbledore for now. Poppy was in the lead, moving past her and to the next bed, gently rousing its occupant to wakefulness. At his grumbling, she explained why.  
"You have a visitor, Mr Black," she said, before leaving back to her office. Mimir turned her head, curious as to the visitor. Albus moved to reveal who was hiding from her sight. Black's face, Sirius she now realised, lit up as he saw his visitor, but Mimir's was curious. The girl looked about 16, though a little shorter than average, about 167 cm. Though it was somewhat muted under her robes, she had a similar body to her own, more athletic than voluptuous. Her black hair fell to shoulder length in unruly waves, though it had obviously seen better days. Thin wire-framed glasses sat on her face, one that was certainly pretty. She looked familiar, but it was what she saw next that caught her completely off-guard. As Sirius struggled to a sitting position, she brushed a lock of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. The scar, the thin lightining-bolt at her hairline, made Mimir's jaw drop.

* * *

"Hey Harri, good to see you're still in one piece," Sirius said softly. Harri's composure broke and she hugged her godfather tightly, tears falling onto his shoulder.  
"I thought I'd lost you," she whispered into his ear.  
"It'll take more than an impediment jinx to get me Harri. Besides, I've got a godfatherly duty to make sure you're raised right from now on."  
"You mean?" Harri breathed, looking to Albus  
"Yes, Amelia Bones witnessed the battle in its final stages, and a thorough examination of the captured Death Eaters and comparison to Sirius here was enough to get him probationally cleared of his conviction of being a Death Eater. He will still have to front a trial to determine his actions against Pettigrew, but for now, he is a free man."  
"Can I live with him now?" She asked softly, almost not believing it. So many things had happed to her this year to crush her spirit, she didn't want to jinx this one good thing and have it taken away from her.

Albus looked into Harri's tear-filled eyes and his heart broke.  
"Yes, you can. I know I did wrong by you by forcing you into the Dursley's custody, but at the time, it was the best I could do from a bad situation. Had things been different… but let's not dwell on the mistakes of the past. The wards that connected you to your Aunt will be difficult to replace, but there are enough protections on Grimmauld Place that perhaps it will be safe enough for you there."  
"Thank you," the two of them said to each other, before a choking noise brought their attention to the woman in the next bed.

The blonde was looking intently at Harri as if she had seen a Dementor tending a garden of marigolds.  
"You… him… Harri?" she sputtered.  
"Who are you?" Harri asked, not recognising the woman. She looked to Sirius, who gave her a shrug since he didn't know her either.  
"Very confused," the woman said weakly as Harri looked back, before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fainted.  
"Oh dear," Albus said, before he left the two of them to catch up. It wasn't every day you talked to your new legal guardian after all.

Albus walked back to his office, the guilt of his placing Harri with her aunt for the moment subsumed by his curiosity of this Commander Shepard, and her curious reaction to Hyacinth Potter's presence. He also pondered her name Mimir, and wondered if it was a portent of some kind that someone claiming to be from the future was named after the Norse god; the guardian of wisdom and knowledge that traded Odin a drink from their namesake well in exchange for one of his eyes. Then he began to wonder how Harri had decided she preferred it to her own name, and wondered if it was too late to get a nickname for himself. He had always been partial to Alan, personally.

* * *

**Thank you so much to everyone who left a review on the decidedly light-on-details but heavy-on-potential prologue of this story. No, I still don't know where it came from. **

**Also, bonus points to everyone who correctly inferred that Mimir was named after the Norse god of Wisdom and Knowledge. The angle I was going for is that since she comes from an alternate future, she might be able to change the events of 1996/97 so that they are better for everyone. And no, this does not mean there will be any head-slicing. **

**While several of you figured out Shepard's namesake, the promised cameo appearance will be going to Great Northern One, for being the first to mention that Odin traded his eye to Mimir. Hugo, my dear friend and compatriot, sadly you and Gnurd lost points for the head slicing thing – I prefer to reserve that kind of behaviour for my Addams family fics. **

**Also, for the fantastic use of logical argument and research, I award 10 points to Leonineus, as well as another bonus cameo. Good call on Harri being, in fact, a girl. And yes, I will be using the different names to differentiate the different universe counterparts. Harry Potter lived his life according to the books, but after that is where I really had my fun. I'll reveal more of that particular past as the story goes on. Hyacinth 'Harri' Potter has lead a slightly different life, gender notwithstanding, but most of the major events of the book up to the end of fifth year happen so close to the same that I won't bother to mention them, except for the rare occasion that they differ. **

**And yes, at some point I will reveal why she likes to go by Harri, probably at the same time that I'll reveal Mimir's nickname. **

**So, continue to be the good reviewers I know you all are, and keep them coming. The more you write, the more I write!**

**EDIT: Thanks to several reviews, I've made a few changes to this chapter to make it read better. The parts I've cut will come back into the story at some point, but after going over it again I agree with Phantom5 that it wasn't the best place to put that particular information. **


	3. Chapter 3

Mimir Shepard woke up to an empty infirmary. At least, there were none of the normal sounds of other occupants, so she just assumed that the teenagers and Sirius Black had been cleared to leave after she'd passed out after seeing the female doppelganger of Harry Potter.

_Oh shit._

_It must be some kind of trick, hallucinations and whatnot_, Shepard thought to herself. _I mean, supposedly I travelled back in time, that's got to mess with anybody's head_. She struggled to a sitting position, which was thankfully easier than last time. Mimir looked up at the curtain screen that now separated her from the rest of the beds. The sound of someone approaching her caught her ear, and she looked up just in time to see the healer from last night peel back the curtain and enter.

"I see someone's finally awake," the healer said, in much the same way that Karin Chakwas did. Shepard wondered idly if there might not be some relation, before turning her attention back to the present.  
"Pomfrey, right?" she asked tentatively.  
"Yes, that's right. Would you prefer to be called Mimir or Shepard?"  
"Shepard, everyone usually calls me that anyway."  
"I see. So, how are you feeling?"  
"Physically fine. Mentally… I'm not sure. I've got a lot of questions that I should ask, but no idea who to ask them of."  
"Well, seeing as I'm currently your doctor, I'd suggest myself," Poppy harrumphed.  
"I don't think you can give the answers I'm looking for," Shepard said. She swung her legs off the edge of the bed and tried to stand, only to fall back into the bed.

"Oh no you don't. I spent a good hour setting your leg the hard way, you're not going to mess it up by trying to walk too quickly," Poppy said as she pushed Mimir back into the mattress. Only once she was down did she notice the cast that had been affixed to her left shin. "I don't know what kind of lax medical attention you're used to, but you aren't going anywhere on that leg until I say so," she said sternly, further reinforcing the similarity. Shepard had only seen a glare that intense from Chakwas when she tried to use her CO authority to get out of the medbay early. It had never worked on Karin either.  
"Fine, but I need to talk to Dumbledore, and soon," Shepard said with a huff.  
"You can think that all you like, but he's a busy man. I'll tell him you asked to see him, but nothing more than that." Feeling that her patient had been suitably chastised, Poppy put down the tray of food she had originally been bringing over before leaving Shepard alone to eat.

As Shepard ate slowly, taking care to avoid aggravating her injuries, she considered her situation more rationally. If she really had travelled back in time, she had to move carefully. There was no telling what event she may or may not do that could change the future, possibly enough to make it so she wasn't born. She'd prefer to avoid such a _Back to the Future_ fate if at all possible. Then again, if the girl Harri was any indication, she had not only travelled back in time but possibly to another universe. If that was the case, she'd have to be even more careful – she wouldn't be able to rely on any of her information about this time period if that was the case, and a bad assumption could cause a lot of damage. She could screw up this world even more than if it was just her own world.

Her mind went back involuntarily to her grandmother's tales. She'd told them to Shepard as Mimir was growing up on Mindoir, about how Harry Potter and his friends had been forced to fight a war in their teen years against one of the worst human beings to ever walk the face of Earth, the self-styled Lord Voldemort. He wasn't nearly in the same league as Saren or the Illusive Man to be sure, but he set the psychotic mould from which they would be cast in their time. He had done terrible things, the kind that had not been forgotten even 200 years later. Mimir remembered back to last night, the names she had heard and tried to match them up to her grandmother's tales. She thought for a while, and came to a horrifying conclusion.

The night before must have been the one where Harry and his friends battled in the Department of Mysteries over the prophecy. Somehow, and she didn't know how the Crucible had caused it, she'd already altered the future of this world by saving Sirius Black from dying. Her grandmother said that he had been the first casualty in a long list that took a toll on Harry's mind, a list that would be far too long by war's end.

Mimir made up her mind that even if it did have larger ramifications, she would not, could not, stand by and let that history repeat. All those innocent lives could be saved if she acted to help them now. All that she needed to learn was how different this world and her own were. If they were close enough, perhaps she could help them before some of the more destructive things came to pass. She was pulled from her musings by a polite coughing.

She looked up to see Dumbledore sitting in a chair next to her bed, a comfortable-looking plush armchair she was certain he had conjured. Today he was in sedate navy robes, his beard once again in his belt and looking over his glasses at her, eyes twinkling.  
_He's trying to do some passive legillimency_, she half-thought, half-remembered. _Good luck_. She held his gaze for a while, certain that between her counter-interrogation training and her experience in melding with her lover, not to mention the fact that biotics almost always trumped magic, she was certain she could hold off any passive attack on her mind.  
"If you want answers, maybe you should ask the questions," Mimir said finally.  
"How curious," Dumbledore muttered quietly. "Forgive me, it must seem quite rude," he said by way of apology. "You deal with students long enough, and you tend to develop bad habits."  
"I can imagine," Mimir replied.

There was a small pause, before Dumbledore restarted the conversation.  
"It is good to see you awake again. I was told you had some questions for me?"  
"Yes, but I would much prefer to do this in a private location. The things I need to ask and the things you will undoubtedly ask me in return are best not overheard by curious ears."  
"Ah, I understand. If it will help things along, then I can certainly ensure some privacy." He pulled out his wand, a pale thing of elder wood that appeared to have carven berries at one end, and muttered a few incantations. Shepard watched silently as spell lights came from the end and encased them in a bubble of multiple hues before he turned back to her.  
"Now then, what would you ask of me?"

"I have a horrible suspicion of what happened to me Professor. I need to ask you questions, probably a lot of questions, about this world's history in order to find out how right I am."  
"Might I enquire about your theory beforehand?"  
"I'll tell you once we've talked. Until then, we both have to be careful. Knowing too much of the future is dangerous." Dumbledore looked down to his lap, a serious expression on his face, before nodding. Mimir couldn't help but recall the vision from the Eden Prime beacon and its terrible warning.

"Let's begin with some history," Shepard began. The two of them spent several hours talking about the history of the world, from the big events such as world wars, to the smaller ones such as British Prime Ministers. With each question answered, Mimir would only her nod neutrally, and Dumbledore was unable to see that events in his world were lining up perfectly with Mimir's, at least what she remembered from her history lessons. All until she got to recent sporting history.  
"Who won the last Isles Cup?"

"I do believe the Wimbourne Wasps won it last year with a close victory over Puddlemere United," Dumbledore said with a smile. This finally garnered a reaction from Shepard, one of shock.  
"You mean the Cannons didn't win?"  
"The Chudley Cannons?" Dumbledore asked with a merry chuckle. "I'm afraid the Cannons came out at the bottom of the league last season. Indeed several of the previous seasons as well. In fact, the last, and only, time they won the Isles Cup was all the way back in 1956." Mimir was shocked at the fact that her favourite team, instead of being the multiple-champions she was used to, were in fact washouts. In her universe, they had set the all time league record for consecutive premiership titles by winning every year from 1990 to 2000.  
"Well, there's the difference then, aside from Harri. You asked before why I'm asking these questions, I'll tell you. I had a theory earlier that I wasn't just thrown back in time, but into an alternate universe to my own."  
"Inter-universal travel…" Dumbledore said softly. "There have been a few who have studied the theory, muggle and mage both, but it's never been more than a theory."

"Well don't look at me for the answer, what happened to me was a complete fluke."  
"Oh well," Dumbledore sighed.  
"But this does bring up a point I need to raise," Shepard said seriously. "Voldemort."  
"What of him?"  
"If this world and mine are as closely aligned as I thought, I may be able to help you defeat him without the long and bloody war that occurred in my universe." Dumbledore looked at her with hunger in his eyes.  
"How?" he asked in a tense whisper. Part of Shepard tried one last time to stop her altering the future too much, but it lost out against her inbuilt compulsion to help people.  
"Ginny Weasley's first year. She came into a possession of a diary that once belonged to Tom Riddle, didn't she? One that possessed her and almost released the basilisk under the castle, if not for the timely intervention of... Harri Potter?"  
"Yes, that's correct."  
"The diary was a horcrux, one of several he made to try and ensure his immortality."  
"How can you know this? I've never told anyone else my thoughts on this."  
"From a not-too-alternate future, remember?" Shepard replied.

"Anyway, that's not the important point. The important thing is that if I'm right, we can find and destroy them before he makes his move to topple the government. All I need is some time to remember a few things." Dumbledore nodded and she paused for a moment. "Could I ask a question about Harri?" she asked quietly.  
"I suppose, but I can't guarantee I will answer it."  
"Is he… I'm sorry she… how did she get that name?"  
"I've never asked myself," Dumbledore admitted. "Her birth name is Hyacinth, but she almost never uses it. She just prefers to be called Harri, best I can tell."  
"Ah… I suppose that makes sense. Rose Evans, then Petunia and Lily, makes sense to continue the flower theme," Shepard said softly. She could readily sympathise, given her own name. She did have a nickname, one she'd gotten from one of her fellow officers at the N-school, but it wasn't important right now.  
"I had not thought of that, but I suppose it makes sense," Dumbledore said with a smile.

There was a silence between them, before Shepard looked up him seriously.  
"There's one here, in the castle," she said.  
"No, that's not possible. It would have been found long ago were that the case."  
"Like the Chamber of Secrets?" she asked. He looked about to protest, but silently withdrew his argument.  
"This may be another point where our worlds differ."  
"Are you willing to take that chance?"  
"… not after our talk," he admitted. "Can you tell me where it is?"  
"It would be much easier to show you. Can you conjure me a crutch or wheelchair?" she asked. Dumbledore stood up and pointed his wand at the chair he had been sitting on, adding a set of gorgeous brass wheels to the chair. Shepard suppressed the giggle, but couldn't help the smile at one of her grandmother's sayings. _Wizards may be capable of incredible things, but there are two things that they lack in the extreme: fashion sense and common sense_.

After pulling herself into the very comfy chair, she looked up at him and asked for the next thing they would need.  
"I'll need either Harri Potter or Hermione Granger for the next bit," she said.  
"Why those two in particular?"  
"They formed a defence study group this year if I'm not mistaken, and their meeting room has more secrets than even they know of," Mimir replied.  
"I see. If you'll wait here, I will fetch one of them. I suspect I'll find Miss Granger first, probably in the library," he said, before leaving her. She sat for a while in silence, picking at the remains of the food she hadn't eaten earlier, before she was joined by Dumbledore again, this time leading a brunette with long, bushy hair and one arm in a sling.

"Oh, you're that woman we found on top of Sirius," she said as they made eye contact.  
"Yes, you can call me Shepard, or Mimir if you must," Shepard said, holding out her hand.  
"Oh, like the Norse myth?" Hermione asked as she shook the proffered hand.  
"The one who offered Odin a drink from the well of knowledge, yes. I need you to guide myself and the Headmaster to the seventh floor. I think you know the room." Hermione shot a scared look up to Dumbledore, who smiled reassuringly at her.  
"Miss Shepard here," he said, looking to her for confirmation of her title. She shrugged in response, not particularly concerned. "Miss Shepard here is to be trusted Miss Granger."  
"Why?" Hermione asked. Dumbledore was about to give a reason, but Mimir spoke first.

"An excellent question Hermione," Shepard said, wincing as Hermione sent a glare at her. She realised too late that she'd called her by her first name without being told it. "What I meant to say was that trust is earned, not given, and in any other circumstance, you'd be right not to trust me. However, I'll ask you this in exchange. What were the terms my namesake made for that drink?" Hermione thought for a moment, before she looked Shepard in the eye to give her answer.  
"Odin had to give one of his eyes," she answered carefully.  
"That's right. Knowledge has a price Hermione, and the kind of knowledge I possess is not something you are ready to hear yet. Even if you are the smartest 16-year-old in Hogwarts." Hermione's protest died at Shepard's compliment. After seeking a little more reassurance from the Headmaster, Hermione pushed Shepard in the converted wheelchair while Dumbledore followed behind.

There was an uneasy silence from the three of them until they were on the seventh floor, near the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy being beaten to death by trolls wearing tutus. Hermione began pacing in front of a section of blank wall, before she was stopped by a hand on her arm.  
"Hermione, we don't need the room your little study group used. We need the room of hidden things," Shepard said.  
"Why do you need to go there?" Hermione asked. Shepard shared a look with the Headmaster, asking a silent question. The teenager barely noticed the slight shake of his head, before Shepard turned back to her.  
"If I'm right, there's an object in there that holds a terrible curse," Shepard said seriously. Hermione nodded slowly, before pacing anew and calling forth the room of hidden things. Three passes later a door appeared out of seemingly nowhere.

Shepard pushed herself to the doorknob and turned it, opening the door to a space that should have been impossible to fit inside the wall it was behind. Piled high as far as they could see were items that a thousand years of Hogwarts students had needed to hide for one reason or another. As they stepped into the room and the door closed behind them, Shepard had another strike of memory. "There are actually two items in here that we need to deal with, if they are still here," Mimir said loudly enough for them both to hear. "There will be a large wooden cabinet, and a bust with a silver diadem. If you find either of them, mark the location but do _not_ touch them."

Dumbledore nodded and set out down a meandering pathway though what appeared to be a collection of items Filch had banned over the years. Watching Shepard struggle to push herself along, Hermione moved up behind her and gave her a push along an aisle between piles of abandoned books and old cauldrons.  
"How did you know my name?" Hermione asked as they moved along. Shepard had hoped to have this conversation another time, but there was no escaping it without seeming incredibly rude.  
"The answer to that question isn't as easy as you might think," Mimir replied. "What do you know of the theories of time travel and alternate universes?" There was a silence for a while as the two of them scanned the piles for the items they were looking for.

"Well, I don't know how much of my life you're aware of, given you knew my name, but time travel is at least possible," Hermione said carefully. "Though multiverse theory isn't something that's caught my attention. I've heard some interesting things from Carl Sagan, but that's about it." Shepard thought out her next words carefully before she spoke.  
"What would you ask a person if you knew they were from the future, or at least a similar future?"  
"I don't really know... there's so many possibilities. But then there would also be the danger of knowing things and trying to change them for whatever reason..." she trailed off as she came to a horrible realisation. She stopped pushing and squeezed herself in front to face Mimir, looking her in the eye.

"Oh... my... god... you're from the future, aren't you!?" she asked in a strained whisper.  
"Yes, and then again, no," Mimir replied. "I don't know how it happened, but I was thrown into this universe, which apparently is similar enough to my own that aside from a few slight variations, history up to this point has been the same." Hermione's jaw dropped, unable to speak as she tried to take in the huge revelation of where this strange woman had come from.  
"What happens to me?" She asked in a breathless whisper, her mind not really thinking through the question.  
"No, that's exactly the kind of thing that I won't be telling you," Mimir replied strongly. "What happened to the Hermione from my universe could be completely different to what has happened to you, what will happen to you. This is exactly the kind of knowledge you are not ready to have."

Hermione looked upset at being told she wasn't allowed to learn something, but she had to admit Shepard had a point. Knowing a possible future could be enough to ensure it never happened, good or bad. She reluctantly nodded and resumed pushing Shepard along the aisles, the two of them in an uncomfortable silence.  
"Can I ask about how your world is different to mine?" Hermione finally asked.  
"As far as I can tell, there are only two major differences. One is the fact that instead of the multiple-championship winning team, the Chudley Cannons are apparently the league's Wooden Spoon."  
"Oh gods, you too!?" Hermione blurted out. Ron's rabid obsession with the team that hadn't won a championship since the 50s, and more than a third of their games in almost as long, was a point of frustration and humour for the brunette witch.  
"They were a perfect blend of humility and talent!" Shepard complained, crossing her arms.

"Fine, fine, I won't hold it against you. Though if Ron finds out, you're on your own. So what's the other thing?" Hermione asked as they came to the end of the row. They moved to the next aisle and began moving down it. Shepard had hoped that the Cannons revelation had distracted the teen from the other difference she had mentioned.  
"Hyacinth," Shepard said quietly.  
"Harri, what about her?" Hermione asked.  
"Her is the operative word there," Mimir replied. "Where I'm from, Harry Potter is very much male."  
"Oh," Hermione said. "Oh..." she repeated as the implications hit her. "Was he your boyfriend or something?" she asked softly.  
"What, no, not even close!" Mimir said, shivering slightly at the mental image. She forced herself into a calm state. There was no reason to divulge to her escort how she knew for a fact Harry was a man in her universe. She wasn't ready to let go of that secret yet, perhaps never.

"Suffice to say, the Harry Potter from my world has been dead for a while," Shepard said calmly. "Before you ask, he lived a long full life and died of old age in his sleep." She was stopped in her musing as a metallic glint caught her eye. She turned her head towards it and wasn't sure if she should smile or grimace. There, on top of a pile of what looked like old Fanged Frisbees and Blasting Boomerangs was a marble bust. Several things adorned it, mostly necklaces and assorted jewellery, but it was the silver diadem on top that had caught her attention.  
"Hold up Hermione," Shepard said as they approached. The teen looked confused, looking around for the reason they had stopped before her eyes went wide.

Shepard's body appeared to be encased in flickering, translucent purple flames. They didn't appear to be damaging anything though. Hermione followed with her eyes as Shepard shot out her hand, a pulse of purple light flying out and engulfing a jewellery-covered bust. Most of it, gaudy and likely cursed, fell off as the bust floated down until only the stone and silver diadem remained. Part of Hermione's mind, the one that liked to think about and analyse new things, wondered what Shepard was doing. It obviously wasn't a normal hover charm, given the lights around the object and her body. It wasn't ordinary magic either, even for wandless and silent casting. She could feel something coming from Shepard, but it certainly didn't feel like the normal magic she was used to. Shepard twisted her fingers a little and the bust fell to the floor with a loud clunk, the diadem floating in front of her.

"Hermione, send up some sparks please. We need Dumbledore." Hermione pulled out her wand and sent up a stream of sparks, before returning to the sight of Shepard floating the diadem. The purple fire around her body had faded to just around her hand as she hovered the diadem above her palm. Whatever it was, she obviously didn't want to touch it. Thankfully, Dumbledore made his way towards them quickly, and his eyes bugged out when he saw what Shepard was holding.  
"Is that..." he breathed.  
"Tiring to keep holding up? Only a little," Shepard said sarcastically. Dumbledore collected himself and saw the expression of strain on her face, the beads of sweat beginning to form. He quickly conjured a box to hold it, and Shepard put the diadem inside, closing it and holding it in her lap.

"One down. Now, did you see the cabinet?" Shepard asked.  
"I must confess your sparks came just before I released my own marker. I did indeed find it, though it's obviously seen better days."  
"Show me." The trio wound their way through the corridors between piled contraband until they came to a large and ornate wooden cabinet. Dumbledore had been accurate in his assessment that it had seen better days, cracked and peeling varnish coming off badly damaged joinery.  
"Dumbledore, you need to destroy this as soon as possible," Shepard said, shooting him a serious look.  
"It can't be the same as," he began, looking pointedly at the box in Shepard's lap.  
"It's not, but it's something you need to destroy if you value the lives of your students," Shepard replied. Dumbledore looked at the cabinet with a disbelieving expression, forcing Shepard to reveal something she rather wouldn't.

"This time next year, a group of Death Eaters may infiltrate the castle by using the partner of this Vanishing Cabinet to bypass the wards. This event will result in a large battle inside the castle and culminating with your death. Do you want to give them the chance to repeat that?" Dumbledore's and Hermione's eyes bugged out, what Shepard had said was incredibly revealing.  
"How?" they asked in unison.  
"You both know the answer. I know I'm not from this world, but in all honesty the war that came in my world sucked. If I can help you to avoid it here, I will. I know it may not be the same here, but why take the chance? Now, can you destroy it please," she pleaded. Dumbledore and Hermione shared a look of concern, before Dumbledore pulled his wand.  
"Stand back," he said, Hermione pulling Shepard's chair back a safe distance. Dumbledore muttered something and then pointed his wand, the cabinet bursting into blue and green flames. The wood burned quickly but the surrounding items showed no reaction to the fire, which soon left only a pile of ash where the cabinet once stood.

"Good, now we can worry about this," she said, looking down to the box in her lap.  
"No normal magic can destroy that," Dumbledore said.  
"Then it's a good thing I'm not planning on using magic," Shepard replied. She ignored Dumbledore's wide eyes as she looked back to Hermione.  
"Can you put the box on the floor and open it please?" she asked the teenager. Hermione looked at her strangely, before she did as she was asked. As she opened the box, she noticed the fine inscription on the inside of the diadem. She reached out with her fingers as she read it, feeling the need to touch it.  
"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," she murmured to herself.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said forcefully, breaking Hermione from her trance. Hermione looked up in mild confusion, before she realised she was still next to the box.  
"Albus, I'm going to have to ask for your forgiveness," Shepard said. "Hermione, come back here please." The brunette got up and returned to stand behind Shepard's wheelchair as Shepard looked at the item with intense concentration. Hermione only barely managed to stifle a gasp when Mimir's body caught fire again, the purple flames engulfing her now darker, somehow more malevolent. Dumbledore too looked on in curiosity, eager to see these 'biotics' Shepard had mentioned.

For her part, Mimir focused only on the diadem in the box. She tried to decide what would work best, before settling on a standard warp. Without the benefit of her salvaged Phoenix gauntlets, it was probably one of the more powerful moves in her repertoire. She let loose with the attack, the ball of unstable alternating fields flying through the air to impact on the box. The box itself disintegrated quickly, but the diadem remained to clatter on the floor, seemingly unharmed. They watched it for several seconds after the purple glow faded, Mimir unsatisfied until a blackness began creeping over the filigree. Shepard flung a lift field followed by a second warp. The combination biotic attack resulted in a dark energy explosion, leaving a small crater on the floor and the diadem shattered into pieces. From the remains a dark shadow billowed up, screaming as it formed a face for a few seconds before dissipating.

"P-professor, what was that?" Hermione asked. Whether she was talking about what Shepard had just done or the wraith they had just witnessed, he wasn't entirely sure.  
"That was a portion of Voldemort's soul," Mimir said quietly. She was breathing heavily now, the biotic exertion taxing her weakened body.  
"His soul? But that should be impossible!" Hermione rebutted.  
"Miss Granger, I think you'll find that for a determined, and arguably demented enough individual, there are very few things that are truly impossible," Dumbledore said quietly.  
"We can debate impossibilities later," Shepard said softly. "I think I'm about to pass out." Her words were prophetic as before they reached the door, she had indeed lapsed back into unconsciousness.

Hermione and Dumbledore were silent on the trip back to the Hospital Wing, though for different reasons. Hermione was trying to comprehend not only that Voldemort had managed to split his soul, but also to figure out what exactly Shepard had been doing. Even in her weakened state the traveller was impressively powerful, but she certainly wasn't using any kind of magic Hermione had ever heard of.

As his student's mind began to wonder on the types of magic Shepard might have been employing, Dumbledore was thinking as well. This Shepard obviously knew much about Voldemort and his plans, at least as far as his horcruxes went. He wondered how, seeing as she wasn't magical herself, and the fact she had come from an alternate universe. He was most disturbed by the future she had described linked to the vanishing cabinet and wondered what it would take to secure her assistance in defeating Voldemort once and for all. Her unusual power, not to mention the potential information she could give them, could tip the balance in their favour before it came to all-out war.

In her slumber, Shepard dreamed of her lover Liara, and wondered if she had survived in the end.

* * *

As Shepard came to again, she once again found herself staring into the face of Poppy Pomfrey.  
"So, finally awake again. Whatever possessed you to convince the Headmaster you needed to get out in that ridiculous contraption, you can forget it. I'm not letting you out of this bed for the next 48 hours, even if I have to break your other leg to make sure." Shepard was fairly certain the healer wouldn't actually break her leg, but the look on her face suggested Pomfrey would try everything short of it to keep her abed. She sighed in resignation.  
"As you wish."  
"As I _command_," Poppy replied sternly, before her face became slightly friendlier. "However, you appear to have impressed the Headmaster. He asked to be informed when you woke again. So while you eat this meal, and all of it, I'll let him know." She put a tray piled high with food onto Shepard's lap as she sat up. Shepard wondered why there was so much of it, but the look in Poppy's eye made it clear that her biotic exhaustion had not escaped the healer's notice.

As she ate her meal, Dumbledore once again came in, conjured a comfortable chair, and sat down. This time, his expression was more serious that before.  
"I assume you want to talk to me about the other Horcruxes I know about," she asked after swallowing a mouthful of potato.  
"You would be correct," he replied. He held up a hand before she could respond. "However, I am willing to concede that this war likely is no great concern of yours. I am aware that there is probably little I can offer you in return, but I would ask what would be suitable to repay you for helping us to rid the world of one of its worst villains." Shepard was impressed, she had been about to mention the same thing. Now though, she had been given the opportunity to do it without sounding like blackmail. She thought for a while about what details she could remember from history, before she realised she could ask him for a few things.

"I'll need a few things – I didn't exactly pack for the trip. What's the current exchange rate for pounds sterling?"  
"Roughly fifty to the galleon, last I checked." Shepard did the mental math, converting the figures she wanted and came to a decision.  
"I'll need about a thousand galleons then. Oh, and a place to stay for about a week." She already had a plan on what to do even with such a small starting sum – small for a wizard, that is. She never thought she'd actually ever have the chance to do it though. She just hoped that her omni-tool had survived the trip. "I'll also need everything I was wearing when you found me, and I mean everything." She gave him a hard look, which he returned with a sheepish smile. She wouldn't have expected anything less than for him to try and examine pieces of what was left of her armour. She would have done exactly the same in his position.

"One last thing," she said, before offering her hand, "I'll need you to talk to someone about trying to get me home." Dumbledore hesitated at that, but reached forward and shook.  
"That may be difficult," he admitted slowly. "I do not have the influence I once did."  
"I saved the galaxy several times and I still get questions about my loyalty," Shepard sighed. "Just promise me you'll try. As much as I'm sure Earth in the 1990s was nice, I'm kind of attached to my own place and time."  
"Aren't we all," Dumbledore said with a chuckle.

"As for your previous requests, I'm sad to say that I'm not able to provide you with either from my personal stocks. Important though I may be, I'm not well-compensated for my time. However, I'm sure that Sirius would be more than willing to repay you for the chance to finally raise his goddaughter." Several expressions flitted across Shepard's face, the main one being confusion. "Is there some reason you are uncomfortable with Hyacinth?"  
"No... not really I guess. I mean, it's not her fault, it just throws me a little bit."  
"Oh?"  
"Look, I'll tell you, but you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone else, not until I'm ready to tell them."  
"Your secrets are safe with me, I assure you."

Mimir took a deep breath, before she found the courage to let it out. She had only ever told Liara this secret, and only because her asari lover wouldn't have gotten why it would be so important to a human. But she was in a different universe now, she would never see these people again if all went well.  
"The reason Harri being a girl is so... disorienting for me is that in my universe, I know for a fact that Harry Potter is a man."  
"It sounds like you knew him," Dumbledore said kindly.  
"No, he died just after I was born. But I... I'm related to him."  
"Oh?" Dumbledore said, genuinely surprised.

"Harry Potter is my grandfather."

* * *

**A/N: Dun Dun DUN! Dramatic reveal!**

**Also, to ADishBestServedBaked who left a review guessing this, I only have one thing to say: stop reading my mind! Those tin hats are really uncomfortable, and I don't like having to wear them!**

**Also Also, if you like this story, in addition to leaving a review, why not go and take a vote on the poll on my profile. I've now got two crossover stories, this one just beginning, and another just ending the second instalment. You get to influence whether this story or the third instalment of Wednesday Shepard (nee Addams) gets more attention. Or you could even demand both. The choice is yours.**

**Till next time!**


End file.
